Time After Time
by Jean-theGuardian
Summary: What if Peter made a different long distance call when he was high on meth? Darcy returns to help Peter kick the habit. But will she be enough to save him? Parcy Peter/Darcy COMPLETE!
1. Blurry

Time after Time

By JeantheGuardian

Spoilers : Degrassi, season 9 Premiere "Just Can't Get Enough".

Summary: What if Peter made a different long distance call when he was high on meth? Darcy returns to help Peter kick the habit. But will she be enough to save him?

Pairings: Basically, it's a Peter/Darcy. (PARCY)

Disclaimer: I own nothing here. Not lyrics, not characters, nothing. Don't sue.

Feedback: Please and thank you!

Part 1 - Blurry

_Everything's so blurry_  
_and everyone's so fake_  
_and everybody's empty_  
_and everything is so messed up_  
_pre-occupied without you_  
_I cannot live at all_  
_My whole world surrounds you_  
_I stumble then I crawl_

_You could be my someone_  
_you could be my scene_  
_you know that I'll protect you_  
_from all of the obscene_  
_I wonder what you're doing_  
_imagine where you are_  
_there's oceans in between us_  
_but that's not very far_

_Can you take it all away_  
_can you take it all away_  
_well ya shoved it in my face_  
_this pain you gave to me_  
_Can you take it all away_  
_can you take it all away_  
_well ya shoved it in my face_  
_this pain you gave to me_

_- Puddle of Mud, "Blurry"_

* * *

Toronto, Canada

11:35 p.m.

* * *

**Peter's POV**

* * *

They say that meth is a head-trip.

One thing hits me with cold-hard reality as I hear the buzzing of cars whizzing by both sides of me.

They were right.

Because I have no fucking idea how the hell I even got here.

The world is off-balance. Everything's a haze and a blur. My skin's on fire, like there's a thousand ants crawling under the soft tissues. The roar of the traffic and horns might as well be a thousand warheads exploding in my ears.

I feel like I'm losing my mind. Is any of this real? Am _I_ real?

Through the cloudy mist of my rapidly deteriorating vision, and the angry bellowing of cars, my mind pieces together fragments of the events of the last few days…clues to how I got here…

_Mia's modeling contract…déjà vu …Kenya…that stupid party where I felt like a fish out of water…that lame chick, Vicki…the bag of meth…my first hit…party…I'm such an idiot…crash…asshole French director kicking me off the set…another hit…Mia finding the meth…more fighting…a slammed door…another broken heart…another hit…Sav at school…another hit…the loft…crash…another hit…I'm so alone…another hit…dealer at the corner…another hit…school…the band without me…me shouting…everyone staring…Get that camera out of my face!...running…Darcy…another hit…Mia…another hit…Mom…another hit…throat's dry…cars all around me…Darcy…horns blasting everywhere…Darcy…can't think…Darcy…noise everywhere…Darcy…Where the hell am I?_

A scream rips from my throat, everything hitting me all at once. It's like I'm being turned inside out. Like a liter of acid's being poured into my brain.

I vaguely registered the phone call I made. I'm freezing cold. Where are those guys? They said they'd be here.

_Nothing's connecting right. Can't think. Can't focus… can't…I can't…I need…_

"…help…," a faint whisper crosses my lips.

The rush of the cars, the blaring horns, angry faces and shouts from drivers and passersby flood my senses.

I slide to my knees, gripping the metal street lamp like a lifeline, as I let out a cry that shakes me down to my soul.

"_Somebody HELP MEEE!"_

* * *

Nairobi, Kenya

6:45 a.m.

**Darcy's POV**

* * *

"_Peter_!"

I awaken with a startled gasp. For several seconds, it's a fight to catch my breath, as I take in the sunlight just barely peeking through my room in the volunteer camp. I exhale with relief as I find myself lying in my bed, clutching the sheets close to my chest.

That was one freaky dream I had.

But that's all it was, I tell myself. It was just a dream. A stupid, non-real, make-believe dream…

…so why did it feel so real? And why was I dreaming about Peter?

I shake my head, falling back to let my head hit the pillowcase. Fifteen minutes before I have to get ready for work, helping volunteers with the building of the new medical clinic at the Tumaini School for Children, and here I am, having nightmares about my boyfrien…ex-boyfriend.

Peter…

I haven't dreamt about him in two months, since I got here. Haven't spoken with him since I found out he was with Mia. Not that it's ever stopped me from thinking about him, every now and then.

But thinking about him, I think about him and Mia. And that hurts. I can't pretend I'll ever know what he saw in her, or why he chose her instead of waiting for me.

Then again, I chose Kenya over him, didn't I? Not that I totally regret my choice. We've been able to do so much for these poor children in such a short amount of time. And seeing their smiling faces when they are learning how to read and do math, learn history and science…it's nothing short of magical.

But it's never stopped me from thinking about him. His smile, his eyes, the way those gorgeous baby-blues twinkled whenever he made a joke, or was trying to impress me. The way those blonde locks casually fell about his face. How safe I felt in his arms when my world was collapsing around me. How he never realizes how much talent he really has, or just how much he could offer the world.

I smile briefly at the thought of him, before I force it down. I shouldn't be thinking about him at all. He's moved on. Can't say I'm wild about his decision…or his choice in girls lately…but more than anything, I want him to be happy. And even though it hurts like crazy, Peter deserves to be happy. After all he did for me, I could never stay mad at him. I…I love him. Probably always will.

And like the song goes, sometimes, if you love somebody, you have to set them free.

I take a sharp breath to fight back the urge to cry at the thought, before I close my eyes and try to sleep for a few more minutes, hopefully with no more scary nightmares about Peter overdosing on drugs.

I shake my head, with a slight snort at the thought. It was silly to think of.

As if Peter was really stupid enough to take drugs…

* * *

**Peter's POV**

_I never should have taken drugs_, the thought rings in my head like a bell toll.

I'm shivering like crazy. Thank God I'm back at the loft now. The guys managed to find me near…wherever the hell I was. Though not before my face nearly kissed the side of an 18-wheeler.

The loft doesn't offer much comfort, but at least my friends do. Deep down, I'm a little surprised they came. I mean, I know they're great friends. But to come after what I did tonight? I'm not even sure _I_ would've come for me after tonight.

But it's hard to feel lucky when I feel like I've been stuffed in a dryer with the spin cycle on high. My head's still spinning, I feel like I want to puke…freezing…so cold…

"Call if you need anything," Sav says, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I barely manage a nod as I see him and Danny head out the door.

I pull the blanket tighter around me, as I feel myself shiver violently. Why is this damn loft so cold?

"I hate this stupid loft. I'm alone all the time," I mutter to myself, loathingly. That last statement refers to more than just the loft…it's more like my whole damn life.

Spinner shakes his head, holding out a glass of water. "Not tonight, dude. Drink this, you're probably dehydrated."

_Not tonight_, he says. Yeah, but what happens tomorrow? And the day after that? And the week after that?

Mom's gone. Dad's gone, not that he'd give a shit, anyway. Mia's gone, now. And Darcy…I really _am_ alone all the time.

Weakly, I take a glance back to Spinner and Riley. "I'm, like…messed up, guys."

I pass the meth bag to Riley. If I ever see another bag again, it'll be way too soon.

I can't take the way they're looking at me right now. I can feel their pitying stares at my back. They're good friends, but they're not what I need. They can't give me what I need right now. I need…like, a hug, or something. I need Mom…or Mia…or…

I barely have time to finish the thought before I snap open my cell phone, my fingers rapidly scrolling through the contacts list. It's almost like instinct, because my body's reacting faster than my brain.

Spinner raises his eyebrows at my actions. "Need to make a call, dude?"

I weakly nod. "Long distance."

"Uh, dude," Spinner says as he gives me a strange look. "You know it's, like, 4 a.m. in Paris, right?"

I don't give a shit what time it is in Paris. That's _not_ where I'm calling.

"I'm…I'm not calling Mia."

I catch Spinner's confused look, before I hear the phone ringing on the other end.

Please pick up, please pick up…if there's ever a time I needed you to pick up that Goddamn phone it's now…You've been the only real thing I could ever count on in this stupid life of mine…please, don't let me down now…

* * *

Nairobi, Kenya

7:45 a.m.

**Darcy's POV**

* * *

Breakfast is nice, if not a little simple.

I take one last look in the mirror, fixing a few stray locks of hair in my face. Not to brag, but I'm looking pretty good. Or as Peter would say, "Awes!"

I smile and roll my eyes. Even thousands of miles away, he can make me smile.

I pause for a moment. What's with all the Peter-centric thoughts today? I haven't thought about him this much since the first weeks of our relationship.

Whatever. I'm probably just homesick or something. That reminds me – I have to call home later tonight. I'm supposed to be going out with some of the girls from the volunteer camp on a little "night-on-the-town" thing. But after that, I'm going to give Mom and Dad a call. And maybe talk to Clare. I'm anxious to know how she and this K.C. I've heard so much about are doing. I can't believe my little sister is finally dating. I've missed out on so much.

I can't think about home right now. I've got to get to the school site, meet Mr. N'Baku and the volunteers, read to the village kids at 10 a.m., eat lunch at 12, more school building at 1… it's going to be one heck of a day.

Without warning, my cell phone rings. God, I hope it's not Naomi from volunteer camp. That girl's such a Nazi about time. She always calls at least 15 minutes before I get to work just to make sure I get to work. It's so annoying.

I flick the out from my purse to take a look at the caller id, and, needless to say, I'm blown away by what I read.

"PETER," the text reads on my caller ID.

No. Freaking. Way.

I let it ring once, then twice. It has to be almost 1 a.m. in Toronto. And I haven't spoken with him in months. So why, of all times, is he calling me now?

Realizing I haven't picked up the phone yet, I hit the 'Send' button to answer.

I pause for a moment, unsure of what to say. "…Hello?"

"Darcy?"

It's him. It's been four months since I've heard his voice. It might as well have been a lifetime. I would have waited either one just to hear him again.

"Peter?" I answer back, trying to keep the excitement from my voice. We're not together anymore, I remind myself. I shouldn't be this happy to talk to him.

"Yeah…yeah it's me."

I frown at the tone in his voice. He doesn't sound like he usually does. Peter's always somewhere between laid-back and sweet whenever we talk. Right now, he sounds…like something's wrong.

"Hey…um, you sound weird. Are you okay?"

I can hear him panting on the other line. "No…not really. Not even a little bit."

Okay, and _now_ I'm worried. I know it's the middle of the night back in Toronto. So, for my ex to be giving me a call when I'm halfway around the world means that he's in some kind of trouble.

"What? Peter, what is it? What's wrong?" I respond, not even trying to mask the worry in my voice.

I hear a short laugh on the other line. "Hey…um….remember that time after Brat Camp last year, when we…um, when we made that promise…thing?"

I swallow hard. The pinky swear promise. How could I forget?

It was our secret thing. Our private pact. It was after the rape, after my breakdown, and the camp. When Peter actually volunteered himself to spend a weekend with troubled, delinquent teens like that creep Johnny DeMarco to make sure I didn't have to go through it alone. A few days after the camp, where we made love for the first time, we found time alone in the park for the first time since the camp.

There were tears, there were hugs, a lot of kisses…and there was the promise…

"_Darce…can you promise me something?" he asked, his arms around me as we sat under the large tree. _

_I looked up at him, eyebrows scrunched in curiosity. "What kind of promise?"_

_His blue eyes meet mine as he gently plays with a stray lock of my auburn hair. "That no matter what happens down the road, no matter the reason, or how far apart we might be…if either one of us needs help, no questions asked, we'll come for each other. To help. No questions asked."_

_I shifted my body, snuggling up to him. "Like you did?"_

_He nods. "Yeah. So…if I need you…really need you…you'll be there?"_

_I can't help but to smile as I look into his eyes. "Always."_

"_Swear?" he asks, holding out his right pinky._

_My heart melts before I interlock my own pinky with his, laying a gentle kiss on our fingers. _

"_Pinky swear," I give him another smile, which he returns before our lips meet in a kiss that never felt so right…_

"Yeah," I respond, my mind jerking me back down to the present situation. I swallowed again, nervously. "Yeah, I remember."

I hear short laughter on the other end that uses Peter's tone of voice, but sounds nothing like him. "I…um…heh-heh…I think this is…one of those times."

My heart starts beating a little faster, a sense of dread coming over me, and I don't even know the reason yet. "Peter, you're not making any sense. What's wrong?"

"Darce…I'm…I messed up," he says. "I'm in…trouble right now."

And I'm officially scared. My voice lowers to almost a hush. "What kind of trouble? Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"Darcy, I…I took drugs."

I almost drop the phone, as my dream rushes back to me in an instant.

_Peter aimlessly walking through the streets, his mind a mess, cars barely missing him, the cruel stares of people around him as he screamed for help…_

"You…you did _what_?" I hurriedly breath the question into the phone.

"I…I'm in…trouble, Darcy. I don't know what to do." The hushed, anguished tones in his voice rip my insides to shreds.

Taking a deep breath, I try to channel the feelings of panic, squelch the horrifying visions of Peter helplessly, hopelessly wandering the streets of Toronto. He needs my help.

"Peter, I need you to listen to me, okay? Peter, where _are_ you?"

The brief pause on the line raises my heartbeat before he finally answers. "Um…apartment. Loft."

_At least he's not in the streets_, I think to myself as I breathe a small sigh of relief. "Are you alone?"

There's a pause on the other end of the line before he answers. "I'm always alone."

My heart aches at his tone. "You're not. Peter…I'm here. Do you want me to call your Mom? I can — "

"_No_!" his voice says sharply. "Not mom…can't…let her see me like…this."

This is not the time for him to be stubborn. "Peter, she has to know. You need help right now, she can — "

"_Darcy, NO_!" he shouts into the phone, causing me to jump back in shock. "Please, don't tell Mom. She can't…know about this. She'll take me…out of school…maybe send me to… boarding school...or rehab… I can't be there…don't want to…be alone!"

I run a shaky hand through my hair, as I start pacing the wooden floors of my room. He needs Mrs. H to know, but I don't want to go against his wishes. "Peter, then how can I help? What do you —"

"C-can you just…come home for a little while? Please?"

Shock hits me first, then…well, more shock. It's not like I live down the block from his apartment. I'm in freakin' Nairobi, Kenya. I'm two whole oceans from Toronto. "_What_? Peter, I'm on the other side of the world right now! I can't just take off!"

"Darcy…_please_," he says, his voice pleading softly. "I need you…you promised me you'd…be there…if I needed you. Ever. Darce, I…I'm _scared_…feel like I'm…dying."

The word 'dying' makes my throat wells up with emotion, as my eyes become watery for a moment. Peter…my sweet Peter. He sounds so alone. And he's scared. All I want to do is to reach through that phone line and hold him, and I can't.

But there is one way I can, I realize. I run to my dresser, hurriedly rummaging through the clothes, my stuff, until I finally get my hands on the small envelope containing my plane ticket back to Toronto.

"Darcy?"

I take a sharp intake of breath before my next words. "Peter, listen to me. I need you to stay in your apartment, and stay away from whatever it was you were taking, okay? And don't leave until I get there." I swallow. "I'll be there in the morning."

"Really?" The wavering note of hope in his voice is impossible to miss.

How could I refuse him now? "Yes. But I need you to promise me that you'll stay away from the drugs until I get there. And call me if anything happens. I'll be home in a few hours."

I hear him sigh in relief. "Thank you."

God…I mean, gosh, Peter, what the hell have you gotten yourself into this time?

"Don't thank me, yet. Just stay safe and stay alive until I get there. We'll figure out what to do. I promise."

* * *

Toronto, Canada

11 a.m., the next day

**Darcy's POV**

* * *

The plane ride was hell. And the jet lag is even worse. I'm just thankful Mr. N'Baku understood. I said it was a family emergency…which wasn't too far off from the truth. He even told me to take all the time that I needed.

That's good. Because I have the feeling I'm going to need all the time I can get.

I haven't even called home and told my parents or Clare that I was coming back. I didn't think they'd understand the fact that I was taking off from a prestigious program to come help my ex-boyfriend off a drug binge. And to be frank, I was through defending my feelings for Peter to my family. They either got it, or they didn't. Either way, it didn't matter. I know how I feel. And that's what counts the most.

Well, it took me a 9 and a half hour plane ride, and a one hour cab ride through downtown Toronto traffic, but I finally make it back to Peter's loft. I've only been here once, when I was helping him move in before last semester. There was less moving of furniture and more really hot make-out sessions than anything, of course.

I sigh as I push that memory far below the surface. _I'm here because he needs me_, I tell myself. _That's it. He's moved on, and we're just…friends._

Sure. Just friends. Maybe if I tell myself that a few hundred times more, I'll actually believe it.

I'm only a few steps from the door of his loft when I see the door slightly open.

The voices in there are loud enough for me to pick up from outside.

"He's totally messed up, man," I hear Spinner's worried voice say.

"I know. I still can't believe it. I mean…it's Pete." I'm pretty sure that's Danny.

"Guys, I think we might need to get him to a hospital. I mean, we all saw him, he's a wreck." That's Sav.

"No, he's just coming down. It takes a while to kick after the crash." I'm not sure who that is.

"Has anyone called his mom?" Sav says.

"Not a good idea, dude," Spinner says. "He was pretty adamant last night. Besides, I don't think she'd be too happy knowing her kid nearly OD'ed."

"What about Mia?" Sav asks. A wave of jealousy washes over me at that name, but I do my best to ignore it.

"No dice, man," says Danny, with a hint of distaste in his voice. "Little Miss Project Runway hasn't returned any of my messages. Guess she's too busy doing photo shoots and munching on Crepe Suzettes to care her boyfriend's tweaked out of his mind."

That comment startles me. Mia's not here? Doesn't she know what's going on? She has to know something's wrong, Danny said he called her.

"We should just wait until he starts to kick," says that unfamiliar voice.

"No, Riley. I say we should take him to a hospital," Sav says.

"And do what? You know they're going to start asking questions," Spinner says. "It's bad enough that mess last night ended up on the Net. What if they arrest him?"

I hear Sav scoffing. "For what? For nearly dying?"

"Of drug use, genius! It's not like he got hit by a car."

"He _almost_ did!"

Now I'm freaked out. Internet? Getting hit by a car? _Arrest_? There's too many scary questions that need answers and I'm not going to get them outside this door.

I push the door open, rapping my knuckles loudly on the door. Off the sound, all four boys in the room – one of whom I've never met – turn in surprise at the sound.

Spinner's eyes look like they're going to pop out of his skull. "_Darcy_?"

I swallow, nervously. "Hey, guys."

Spinner quickly crosses the threshold, pulling me into a big hug. His closeness is comforting, given the situation.

Off his reaction, Danny and Sav quickly approach.

Danny offers me a smile, although the shock is still plain on his face. "Darcy, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be off saving babies in Africa or something?"

I roll my eyes as I pull Danny into a hug. "Peter called me last night. I needed to be here."

Sav lays a friendly hand on the shoulder. "It's good to see you again, Darcy."

I reward him with a faint smile, before I turn back to Spinner. "How is he?"

Spinner shakes his head, sadly. "He's out of it. It's bad."

My hand flies to my head, trying to process what I am hearing. "What happened? Peter doesn't do drugs."

"That's what we thought," Danny sighs. "And then we found out about the meth."

My eyes turn to him, as I feel shock jolt through my body. Oh, my God. _Peter_…

"_**Meth**_?" I gasp, still hoping I heard wrong. "As in _crystal_ meth? _Methamphetamine_?"

The guys exchange looks with each other.

"Yeah," says Sav. "We found him last night wandering 10 blocks south of Degrassi. He nearly got crushed by an 18-wheeler. He's pretty messed up."

This can't be happening. Not to Peter. I've read about meth. I know what that stuff can do to a person's body. It destroys a person from the inside out. It takes a perfectly healthy person and takes them apart piece by piece, right down to their teeth.

What's worse is that its effects are powerfully addictive, making recovery extremely hard, if not altogether impossible.

Why, Peter? Why of all the stupid things you could've done did you have to take _meth_?

I fight to keep the tears from my eyes as I turn to face Spinner again. "Can I…can I see him? Please?"

Spinner nods. "Yeah. But Darce, I gotta warn ya…he looks real bad."

I take a deep breath. "I don't care. I have to see him."

Spinner stares at me for a moment, before he places an arm around my back, leading me towards Peter's bedroom.

I steel myself with another deep breath, praying to God that I can handle this.

* * *

To Be Continued…


	2. You Found Me

Time after Time

By JeantheGuardian

Spoilers : Degrassi, season 9 Premiere "Just Can't Get Enough".

Summary: What if Peter made a different long distance call when he was high on meth? Darcy returns to help Peter kick the habit. But will she be enough to save him?

Pairings: Basically, it's a Peter/Darcy. (PARCY)

Disclaimer: I own nothing here. Not lyrics, not characters, nothing. Don't sue.

Feedback: Please and thank you!

PART 2 - You Found Me

_I found God_  
_On the corner of First and Amistad_  
_Where the west_  
_Was all but won_  
_All alone_  
_Smoking his last cigarette_  
_I said, Where you been?_  
_He said, Ask anything._

_Where were you_  
_When everything was falling apart?_  
_All my days_  
_Were spent by the telephone_  
_That never rang_  
_And all I needed was a call_  
_It never came_  
_To the corner of First and Amistad_

_In the end_  
_Everyone ends up alone_  
_Losing her_  
_The only one whos ever known_  
_Who I am_  
_Who Im not, and who I want to be_  
_No way to know_  
_How long she will be next to me_

_Lost and insecure_  
_You found me, you found me_  
_Lying on the floor_  
_Surrounded, surrounded_  
_Whyd you have to wait?_  
_Where were you, where were you?_  
_Just a little late_  
_You found me, You found me_  
- The Fray, "You Found Me"

* * *

**Peter's POV**

* * *

Head feels like… it weighs a thousand tons. Still freezing. Why am I so damn hungry? Skin's on fire…_God, what I wouldn't do for another hit _—

_**NO**_! Can't do it. That's what got me here in the first place.

How the heck did I get on the _floor_? Wasn't I on the bed when I fell asleep? Was I ever asleep? Or is this all one bad dream?

I even dreamt I called Darcy…how messed up is _that_? God, I really need help.

The sound of footsteps interrupts my scattered thoughts. I let out an audible groan as I wrap the comforter around me.

"Go away…Spinner," I groan, finding it too hard to hold a simple sentence together. "Don't want to…talk to…_anyone_ right now."

A brief moment of silence follows before he speaks. "Told you he was a mess. We had to wrestle him down last night before we finally got him to sleep."

"Sure, Spin," I grumbled. "Tell everyone how…methhead Pete's a…screw-up…and how."

I hear Spinner huffing as he says, "Dude, look –"

More silence follows before I hear another voice. A softer, gentler, female voice.

"Could you just give us a moment, Spinner? Please?"

I feel my face frown in confusion. That voice…so familiar…Mia? No, can't be…it almost sounds like…

"I'll be right out here if you need me," I hear Spinner say before he closes the door.

For a few seconds, I'm scared, as I don't see anyone from my spot on the floor, looking up from my bed.

"Whoz'ere?", the questions slurs from my lips, intending to come out as "Who's there?" but failing miserably.

I hear more footsteps, and I weakly look up to see the worried look on a beautiful face I've only seen in my dreams for the last four months.

My thoughts ping-pong between "Please don't let this be a dream" to "Oh, God, please kill me now. Don't let her see me like this" and even "Wow…I must really be strung out."

I briefly lick my lips, my eyes wide in surprise. "Darcy?"

A small, but beautiful smile crosses her pretty face. "Hey."

I shake my head sharply. Is this a dream? "Are…are you…real?"

I see her chocolate brown eyes fill with worry as she bites her lip, a gesture she often did whenever she was concerned. "Gosh, Peter…what happened?"

She has to be real. She's the only person I've ever met who still uses 'Gosh' as part of her daily vocabulary.

I let loose a small chuckle at the thought.

Within moments, she's on the floor with me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, pulling me up and into her arms.

In my delirium and my need – my need to make sure she's real and not some drug-induced delusion – I bury my face into her soft shoulder, losing myself in the sweet, familiar, yet intoxicating scent of her. She smells like some kind of wildflower…and candy…Mia smelled nice, but only Darcy's scent could make me feel more exhilarated than all the meth in the world ever could.

Darcy…she's here. Really here. How is this possible?

"You're…here," I whisper. "Why are you…here?"

I take comfort in the gentle caress of her fingers in my hair. "You called, remember?"

It wasn't a dream. A hallucination.

Darcy's really here.

* * *

Darcy's POV

* * *

"You…came back."

I nod, holding him against me. His eyes are baggy, his forehead's damp with sweat and his skin is flushed and dry. His normally smooth speech is slurred, choppy. His face…it looks like he's going to pass out on me at any moment.

Is it weird that even as an obvious wreck that he's still the most handsome boy I've ever seen? I've never thought a boy could be beautiful until I met Peter Stone.

"We made a promise, remember?" I whisper. I feel him shivering violently against me. I'm not sure if it's the cold or the drugs, or something else. I gently lower his head into my lap, trying to get him in the most comfortable position possible.

I can't tell how long we sit in silence after that. I think we're probably just drinking in the sight, the presence of each other's company. Lord knows I never thought I would be in this position ever again, led alone 12 hours ago.

My fingers just run through the tangled locks of his blonde hair, gently comforting him. He reaches up and gently kisses my free hand, and the sparks on my skin send a jolt through me.

Then I hear him humming a strained, off-key but pretty melody, though his eyelids are drooping.

"_Memories of you and me, tumble inside my head,_

_the way that we used to be, things that we said, _

_No one has ever made me believe so strong,_

_You left me to wonder, how did our love go wrong_?"

I gasp softly, recognizing the lyrics. It was an old Richard Marx song called "Angelia". I love that song. I remember telling Peter as much. It was just such a beautiful song. But hearing it from Peter's lips makes me want to cry. It is, after all, a song about love gone wrong, lovers turned strangers…is that what we've become, Peter? Are we strangers now? Are you the same boy I fell in love with? Or have the months I've been away been like years between us? Changed us both so much?

Just look at what's happening to you right now…

"Why are you singing that?" I ask him in a hushed tone.

A faint smile crosses his lips. "Thought you…liked that…song. Richard…Marx, right?"

I offer a smile back. "I'm not much for that song right now. But thanks for remembering."

His trademark smirk, albeit a weak one, comes on his face. "I could sing…"Shared Custody"…for you. Now that's…a jam."

Despite the gravity of the situation, I can't help but to laugh a little bit. Classic Peter Stone. Even crashing from a drug binge, he's still Mr. Charming.

His blue eyes meet mine in a piercing, soulful stare. "Missed this…missed…_you_…"

Please, God, don't let me start crying. I have to be strong for him. He needs me. "I missed you, too."

He suddenly shifts to his side, his head still in my lap. "Hrmm…Th-thirsty…"

I grab the water bottle on the floor, next to the bed. Twisting the cap off, I hold the clear plastic bottle to his lips. "Drink this. It'll help."

He nods, gratefully, before he eagerly drinks the water from the bottle in my hand. And how weird is it that I find this incredibly romantic?

"So…how's Africa?" he mutters, rubbing his hands along his arms to warm himself.

I shrug, casually. "Hot."

"So that's…why…you left," he smiles mischievously, though he looks like a shadow of his handsome former self. "Couldn't take…Canadian winter…a.k.a. the best… 9 months… of the year, eh? Wuss."

I shouldn't be laughing, but the giggle escapes my lips before I can stop it. I can't help it. Whenever I'm around him, he can't stop making me smile.

"So," I say, tangling my fingers in his dirty blonde hair. "How've things been?"

A stupid question, I know, given the situation. But anything's better than just silence.

His eyes grow distant, his head turning slightly in my lap. "Ah, you know…same crap…as usual. Mom…Regina, Dad…might as well be on…moon…Oh, and hey…turns out…I'm…a methhead….Even…Mia…said so herself."

I stiffen at the mention of that name. Despite a serious case of the green-eyed monster coming up in me, I smother that feeling into the most casual tone I can muster. "So…how _is_ Mia?"

He scoffs, bitterly. "Paris."

My eyebrows rise. "_Seriously_?"

He nods, reaching up to eagerly scratch his neck. "Turns out…she got a…modeling contract. Apparently…the contract is such…a big deal…she even dumped me after…photoshoot…when I took…another hit of…meth. Probably took…next…flight out."

My insides freeze. "She left you while you were _high_?"

His laugh is hollow, mirthless. "Yeah. Guess she's too good to…stick around…with little old me…even when I need…help."

The shock throws me completely. Mia _knew_ about this? Knew about his addiction? And she left him alone to go to _Paris_? _While_ he was high on _meth_? If something terrible had happened to him, there would've been no one around to help… I feel my anger boiling in my veins, until a small groan of pain escapes his lips.

My heart aches for him as I continue to cradle his head. "Peter, I…I'm so sorry."

His sky blue eyes look up at me, broken and sad, like a lost little boy. "Darce, I…I'm messed up."

"You have a problem," I countered softly, my voice filling with soft conviction, for him _and_ for me. "But you can fix it. You just need help."

He shakes his head. "No, I'm…messed up. I've _been_ messed up since…since…."

The forlorn look in those shattered blue eyes breaks my heart. "Since when, Peter?"

"Since you…left me. You…you went away, Darcy." I feel his hand cling to mine. Like a life preserver. "You went away…left me here…all alone…"

I feel the tears start in the back of my eyes. Guilt washes over me as I realize that I never should've left. If I had known this would happen, I never would've gotten on that plane to Kenya. I should have been here…I could've…

No, this didn't have anything to do with me. Peter has a problem, and he needs help. But more important than that, right now, he needs a friend.

I take in a deep breath. "Peter, my leaving for Kenya doesn't give you an excuse to kill yourself."

But he continues on, like he didn't even hear me, his voice distant, mournful. "Everyone leaves in the…end, don't they? You left me for…Kenya, Mia leaves me for…Paris, Dad left me for…shiny new life… Mom left me for…Regina…am I such a…loser… that everyone I love has to…move hundreds of…miles just to get…away from me?"

I fight to keep the tears at bay. Peter…my sweet, thoughtful Peter…

"You're not a loser," I say softly, tracing the perfect lines of his face. "You were never a loser, Peter."

His face twists up, bitterly, and I can see the tears start to brim in his eyes. "Then why am I always…alone, huh? Why?"

_You're not alone_, I want to say. _You'll always have me. I'll always love you_. But for reasons I'm too afraid to explore, the words get caught in my throat. So, instead, I offer a question.

"What about your friends? Don't they count?"

He folds his arms as he turns his head, bitterly. "No."

My heart drops at his statement, as I look at him with sad eyes. "I know you don't mean that."

He sighs, his face apologetic. "Always…knew me better…than I did, huh? Yeah…I guess you're…right."

I always knew that he had issues with loneliness. Abandonment.

I loved him with all I had to give when we were together, but as horrible as it might sound, being with him made me appreciate what I had much more. Granted, Peter's parents were a lot richer than mine. And he was so talented that it often made me feel stupid in comparison, not that I ever told him that. But when he let me into his world, I was surprised to see how empty it was, how barren. I have my parents, and Clare, and Manny, Spinner and Jane and sometimes, Emma. I had life and love all around me. But Peter…he didn't have anyone. His mom was too busy running school and her own life, even though I could sense she really did love him. Which is more than I could say for his dad. He was too busy with his new wife and daughter and his own 6-figure job to care about what his only son did. He had no siblings to talk to; no real friends until the Studz were formed. He was alone most of the time, except when he was with me. There were times when it felt like him being with me was like his escape from that world. And I was only too happy to indulge him.

I gently turn his face towards mine. "There _are_ people who love you, Peter. People who care about you, and don't want to see you get hurt by messing with this meth crap."

He snorts, clearly not believing me.

My voice grows a little more firm. "Hey, there are. And you know _how_ I know?"

His response comes out a slur. "Howz'at?"

I give him a small smile. "Because _I'm_ one of them."

His smirk peaks out at me for a minute. "One of…who?"

I know what he's fishing for, but I'm still scared to go down that route. So I tread lightly around. "People who care."

His eyes grow wide for a second. Almost as if they're scared. "Care? Not…?"

My heart tugs at his desperate tone, longing to let loose the words just at the tip of my tongue. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"

"Say what?"

I give him a knowing look. "You know what."

His eyes fall for a moment, disappointment swimming in those clear blue orbs. "No. Not if you don't…want to…not if you don't…mean it—"

I gently place a finger to his lips, making sure I'm looking into those beautiful blue orbs. Oh, the hell with it.

"Peter…I love you."

It's like a shaft of light illuminates his face. His eyes suddenly brighten, a disbelieving smile crossing his weary features. "You…mean it?"

I simply nod, not even trying to stop the tears that slide down my cheeks this time. Every part of me is aching for him so badly, it's maddening…

He desperately grabs my hand. "Love you... too…never stopped. Part of me never…will."

The longing building in me finally hits its boiling point. "Me, neither."

I know I shouldn't, know that this isn't what he needs right now, but guided by something stronger than instinct, I lower my head, tilt his head up slightly, bringing his lips to mine.

And suddenly, here we are, like we never stopped. As the kiss deepens, as my tongue and his meld into one, it's like our souls touch…and suddenly there's no Mia, no Kenya, no meth, no rapists or roofies, no slit wrists and brat camps, no bands and parents who don't care or understand…the world fades away, leaving only the two of us. We're just Peter and Darcy. Two people…in love…

For a few blissful moments, everything's the way it ought to be.

The kiss breaks all too soon, even though he manages to steal another quick one from my lips.

As I look into the shining eyes of the boy…the young man…who means the world to me, I realize just how close I came to losing him forever. And how I can't let that happen again.

"You're not alone, Peter. I'm here. Right now. And I'm going to help you every step of the way. You won't have to do this alone."

The way he grasps my hand…it's like he'll drown if he lets it go. So I hold on. Because I'll never let him go. I thought I could, but I can't. Peter Stone is as much a part of my heart and soul as God himself. Losing him…it would be like losing part of me.

"Swear?," he weakly manages, but his eyes filled with hope.

I smile as I entangle my right pinky with his, planting a soft kiss onto our locked fingers. "Pinky swear."

His smile is frail, but genuine. "Thank you…wasn't sure I would…make it through the day."

Now it's my turn to smirk. "Hey, what's a little transcontinental, 4,000 mile plane ride between lovers, anyway?"

A feeling of pride swells within me at the statement. Mia might have had Peter until now, and Emma got to him before, but no matter what anyone will ever say, or whoever might come down the road… I'll always know that _I_ had him _first_.

"I…love you, Darcy."

I smile as I stroke his hair, but I don't say it back. Sometimes, the only way to tell someone you love them is to show them.

So I take a breath, and I sing him a song that my mom used to sing to me when I was a little girl.

"_Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,  
and think of you  
caught up in circles confusion-  
is nothing new  
Flashback-warm nights-  
almost left behind  
suitcases of memories, _

_Time after_—

* * *

Peter's POV

* * *

That song…I know that song. I feel the lull of sleep pulling on my eyelids, but I'm enraptured by the soft, angelic pitch of her voice. My Darcy…singing. To me.

If this is a dream, I don't ever want to wake up…

"_Sometimes you picture me-  
I'm walking too far ahead  
you're calling to me, I can't hear  
what you've said-  
Then you say-go slow-  
I fall behind-  
the second hand unwinds_"

_If you're lost you can look-and you will find me  
time after time  
if you fall I will catch you-I'll be waiting  
time after time_…"

The lyrics soothe me, bring me warmth, heal my heart, and comfort my soul. I never felt as lost as I have the last few days. And I never fell as hard. And here she is, giving me comfort when I need it the most.

It shouldn't be a surprise to me that I'm here, needing her like I've always needed her. In the vast wasteland of loneliness that's been my life, Darcy Edwards was like an oasis. My escape. My miracle. One look from her eyes, one touch of her hand, and even the loneliest guy in the world could feel, even for an instant, like he belonged.

I was stupid to have let her slip away. I should've moved to Kenya with _her_, not to Paris with Mia. Even at our best, I couldn't shake the feeling that Mia was just the rebound. She sought a place in my heart that was not meant for her. It was meant for Darcy.

It's _always_ been Darcy. Probably always will.

"_After my picture fades and darkness has  
turned to gray  
watching through windows-you're wondering  
if I'm OK  
secrets stolen from deep inside  
the drum beats out of time_…"

Just look at right now, I tell myself. Even when I piss off my friends, alienate my girlfriend and ditch my life to blow my brains out on meth, _she's_ here, flying out all the way from Africa, ditching her own life just to be help me put back the pieces of the person I once was.

Since Darcy's been gone, I've felt my world slip into chaos. The almost-thing with Riley, dating Mia, getting high…now she's been back for only, what a few minutes? Hours? And I can feel the world tip back into balance again. Everything makes sense. Everything fits. _I_ fit.

_If you're lost you can look-and you will find me  
time after time  
if you fall I will catch you-I'll be waiting  
time after time…_

_Time after time…_

_Time after time…_ "

Sleep is winning the fight and I begin to sleep for the first time in days. I don't know what the next day holds for me. I don't even know how I'll make it through the next ten minutes. But I know one thing.

Darcy Edwards loves me.

And corny as it sounds…as long as I know that, I know that sooner or later, it will all be okay.

* * *

To Be Continued…


	3. HeartBreak Warfare

Time after Time

By JeantheGuardian

Spoilers : Degrassi, season 9 Premiere "Just Can't Get Enough".

Summary: What if Peter made a different long distance call when he was high on meth? Darcy returns to help Peter kick the habit. But will she be enough to save him?

Pairings: Basically, it's a Peter/Darcy. (PARCY)

Disclaimer: I own nothing here. Not lyrics, not characters, nothing. Don't sue.

Feedback: Please and thank you! And thanks to degrassiiloveyou for sticking with this story. You rock! (By the way, I don't think you'll be seeing Darcy back for a long time, if ever, at Degrassi. Shenae Grimes is much too busy with 90210 nowadays. But hey, we can still hope, right? ;) )

* * *

Part 3 - HeartBreak Warfare

* * *

_Lighting strikes inside_  
_My chest keep me up at night_  
_Dream of ways to make you understand my pain_

_Clouds of sulfur in the air_  
_Bombs are falling everywhere_  
_Its heartbreak warfare_  
_Once you want it to begin_  
_No one really ever wins_  
_In heartbreak warfare_

_If you want more love_  
_why dont you say so?_  
_If you want more love_  
_why dont you say so?_

_Drop her name, push it in and twist the knife again_  
_Watch my face as I pretend to feel no pain pain pain_

_How come the only way to know_  
_How high to get me_  
_Is to see how far I fall?_  
_God only knows how much_  
_Id love you if you let me_  
_But I cant break through it all_

_I dont care if we dont sleep at all tonight_  
_Lets just fix this whole thing now_  
_I swear to God were gonna get it right_  
_If you lay your weapons down_

_- John Mayer, "Heartbreak Warfare"_

* * *

Darcy's POV

* * *

5 p.m.

* * *

Hours pass like minutes as I watch him sleep. Sometimes, he turns fitfully, shivering and scratching. So I run my hands through his hair, whisper sweet words of comfort into his ears, until his struggles ceased, and he would be asleep once more.

I wonder idly what he was dreaming about. Does he dream? And if so, was it ever about me?

I could stay watching him asleep for hours and I wouldn't mind. The one time we were ever…intimate... I was too numb from hurt and pain and self-loathing to fully enjoy it. I never even got to see him sleep. But I have on other nights after that. When I would still sneak into his room at night, when his mother was off at a meeting, or working in her home office. We always came close to a second time, but the timing was never right. So, we would fall asleep in each other's arms. Well, he would. I would always wake up to see him slumbering. The lines on his face, the curve of his chin, the way his nose would twitch whenever my fingernails would trace over the bridge between his lip and his nose…how could a boy be so beautiful?

Leaving him behind was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. How do you choose between your heart and your life? That's part of why I waited so long to tell him about the program in Kenya. Yes, I knew it would hurt him, and I wanted to put that off for as long as possible. But another part – a bigger part – is that I didn't want to deal with it. I wanted to put off the fact that I was going to be leaving him for as long as possible, until I had to deal.

In retrospect, maybe it wasn't the most mature response. But I couldn't help it. I just didn't want to lose him. And I ended up losing him, anyway…to _Mia_, of all girls, of all people . And now, I almost lost him to drugs.

Through all of this, I've come to one stark, clear revelation: I'm sick and tired of losing him all the time. I've had it. And I'm done with it.

If I have it my way, Mia's never coming near him again. Not after this. She left him at his weakest point – when he needed someone most to help him, care for him, _love_ him – took the first flight to France and left him to die alone, high on meth. I may have an uphill battle ahead of me, but the sleeping, handsome boy in my lap is worth it.

I stroke his hair gently, marveling at the handsome features of his face as he slumbers peacefully.

"I will never…_ever_… let anyone or anything hurt you again," I whisper. "I _promise_."

My ears pick up loud voices coming from outside.

"I don't care! Dude's in recovery. I'm not going to wake him up because _now_ you feel like calling him!"

That's Danny's voice. I can tell.

A female voice, though not so audible, barks back. "It's none of your business when I call, Danny! Just put Peter on. I have a half-day photo shoot in an hour and this is the only time I'll get to talk to him today."

I pause. That's Mia, isn't it? It has to be.

"Oh, so _now_ you want to talk?" Danny shoots back, heatedly. "What, were you too busy running late yesterday to catch your stupid flight when you were here and Peter was getting bombed on _meth_?"

Her reply is icy. "That's between me and Peter, Danny. What goes on in our relationship is none of your business. Put. Him. On. _Now_."

Anger flares in me at her tone. How _dare_ she call here, after what happened yesterday? Peter could've OD'ed right in his own apartment, and she walked out on him, couldn't even bother to pick up a phone and call someone for help. And now, when it suits her, she just pops in dead-set on having a talk with him?

Like Peter's just some toy she can drop and play with at will?

Well, not if _I_ have anything to say about it…

I grab a nearby pillow and place it under Peter's head, gently laying it underneath him. Just because I'm pissed doesn't mean I want to disturb his sleep. I lay a gentle kiss on his forehead, before I rise and head for the door.

Danny's glare at the webcam could melt it if he had heat vision. "Look, I don't know what it's like in the modeling world, but if you think you can just snap your fingers and call up whenever you feel like after — "

I pull up in front of him, ignoring the others as they watch. I glare at the girl on the screen, wrapped up in a head towel and robe in some dressing room, talking about Peter like he's some piece of property.

In a tone that could freeze fire, I reply curtly. "Peter Stone's residence. May I _help_ you?"

Mia's face drops, and inside, I relish the surprise on her face. The face of the girl who stole Peter away from me, only to hurt him. I heard Spinner talking about it with the guys while Peter was sleeping. I know everything.

"_Darcy_?" she asks, shocked. "What are _you_ doing there? Aren't you supposed to be in, like, Africa, or something?"

I can feel the anger boiling beneath the surface. "Yeah, funny story. See, I got this phone call 16 hours ago in Nairobi from an ex-boyfriend of mine, and it turns out that his girlfriend walks out on him to hop on a plane to Paris and do a turn on the catwalk, while he's running down the streets, _high out of his mind on meth_ and – here's the funny part – his "girlfriend" walked out on him _while_ he was high _without_ telling _anyone_, even his closest friends or his mom!" I smile viciously at her, letting loose a harsh laugh. "Isn't that hysterical?"

Her face pales. "Is…is he okay?"

"No, he's _not_ okay," I snap, letting the anger I've had boiling inside me explode. "You have _no_ right calling here. Not after what you did. Who the _hell_ do you think you are, Mia?"

She scowls, her tone indignant. "_Excuse me_?"

"Did I _stutter_?" I shoot back, unimpressed. What the hell did Peter ever see in this girl, anyway? "Peter has a drug problem, Mia. I know you know how dangerous meth can be. We sat in class together the day that cop held a tutorial on drugs. And you left Peter, alone, in his apartment while he was getting high off something that could have _killed_ him with the first _dose_!"

She at least has the grace to look guilty. "Look, I…he was out of control, okay? I got scared. But I told him that he needed help…"

_Now_ I'm pissed off. "So, instead of giving him the help he needed, you took off to _Paris_ for a _career shot_? Nice one, Mia. You're _definitely_ in the running for the 'girlfriend-of-the-year' award."

"Like _you_ should talk!," She glares at me, as she fires back, and she is so lucky she's not here right now, or I would have clocked her by now. "Didn't you ditch him to help starving kids in Kenya or whatever? Don't throw stones if you live in a glass house, _Darce_."

I feel a growl coming from the back of my throat. She did _not_ just go there, and she did NOT just call me _Darce_. Only Peter and Manny (and sometimes Spinner) get to call me that. "Funny, Mia, I'd think you'd appreciate someone doing a great thing for kids in need, being that you're a mom yourself. But here's the difference between you and me. When I found out Peter was in trouble, _I_ dropped everything and got on the first plane back. _You_, on the other hand, grabbed the first ticket out of dodge. And why? Because _I_ care about him, while _you_ obviously have your mind set on _other_ things."

"Well, _excuse me_ for trying to grab a chance at a dream job!"

"I excuse you for dreaming, Mia," I reply. "I know a thing or two about following dreams and opportunities myself. And I excuse you for being scared. Maybe I even excuse you for breaking up with Peter." My knuckles suddenly swell as I ball them into a tight fist. "But what I _don't_ excuse you for…and what I'll _never_ forgive you for…is walking out on him _while_ he was high, when he needed help, and leaving for another continent without telling _anyone_ that Peter has a problem. Not his mom, his dad, not his friends…_no one_. You _abandoned him_ while he needed help, and he wandered the streets for hours while on a _meth_ trip, and nearly got _hit by an 18-wheeler_!" My voice rises with emotion as I'm practically shouting. I fight to keep my voice down. I don't want to wake him up. "If you loved him…_really_ loved him…you would be here, right now, making sure that he could _sleep_, that he was _okay_, making sure that he was getting help he needs to stay _alive_ and stop using meth for _good_…instead of sitting in some fake dressing room in Paris, staring at a monitor, waiting for your next photo shoot."

Mia doesn't have to say anything. The silence and culpable look on her face says it all.

"Oh, _snap_," I hear Spinner whisper behind me. I don't acknowledge it, because I'm too busy glaring a hole at the screen.

Mia glares back at me, defeated, but somehow defiant. Her voice is small, but with the slightest tone of indignity. "Just put Peter on, okay?"

She's persistant, I'll give her that. "No."

"_Put. Him. On_." Her authoritative tone does nothing to impress me.

"_He's_ _asleep_," I reply, tersely. "You want to talk? Try in a few days, _if_ he's up to it."

"I'm his _girlfriend!_," Mia protests angrily.

I have to fight to keep the smirk down. "I think I'll let _him_ be the judge of that when he's ready."

Our glares could kill as we exchange them across cyberspace. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means what it means," I respond cryptically. "But I know if I were him, I wouldn't want to be with someone who I couldn't count on when the chips were down."

"Quit being a _bitch_ and just put him on the _damn_ webcam, _okay_?"

She. Did. _Not_. Just. Call. Me. The B-word. I'm practically snarling as I prepare to lay into her. "_Look_, you little— "

"Darcy! _Enough_!" I turn, startled, by the sound of that voice.

Peter stands not a few feet from me, scowling. Oh, my gosh. I woke him up, didn't I? I'm so stupid. I let my anger get the better of me, and now he's awake when he should be in bed, getting rest.

His legs slightly wobble as he makes his way to the countertop and looks into the webcam, his handsome features weary, but glancing indifferently at the screen.

"Hello, Mia." The cold, formal tone in his voice is hard to miss.

"Peter!" she says, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank God, I was so worried about you."

I scoff, somewhat loudly. Sure, she was so worried about him that she flew to another continent when the sugar hit the fan. Worried, yeah right…and I'm Miley Cyrus.

He laughs, bitterly. "Yeah, funny way of showing it, what, with you skipping town for Paris and all."

Her face drops. "Peter…you…you know I would have— "

"Would have _what_, Mia? _Stayed_?" I haven't heard him sound this cold in a long time. "Hard to believe, with you all the way over there, and me over here, huh?"

I can see her get paler, and I bite hard on my lip to keep from smiling.

Her voice has a pleading note to it. "Peter…"

"I can't believe you left me while I was tripping on meth!" His face is dark with anger. "I could've freakin' _died_, Mia! _How could you do that_?"

She looks stricken. "Peter…I'm sorry. I was just…I was scared, okay? You didn't see how you were acting."

"But _you_ did. And you didn't think it'd be a good idea to call for _help_?"

He's livid. This is a side of him I've rarely seen, but know too well. And I know why. In his mind (and mine) Mia abandoned him. He's had to deal with that all his life. It's a wonder he's not a basket case over it yet.

"You didn't think someone should have _known_?" He rages on at her, lower lip trembling in anger. "You couldn't pick up your damn cell phone and someone to _help_ me? My friends? My mom? My dad? My freakin' _probation officer_?"

I bite my lip harder as I watch Mia stammer her excuses. "I-I-I didn't… I was just so mad…I didn't think…"

"_That's_ the problem!," he practically shouts. "You _didn't_ think. You couldn't stop to think about anything but your stupid modeling gig! I tried to be supportive, Mia, I _really_ did! I went to those stupid stuck-up parties with you – which was where I get the meth in the _first_ damn place – I supported you, I let that French asshole walk all over my ego for you…_ME!_…I even wanted to _move to Paris_ with you! And I _hate_ French people! They _suck_!"

That last comment stung. He was actually thinking about moving to _Paris_ with _Mia_?

"I…I know, sweetheart," she says, mournfully.

The word 'sweetheart' from her lips makes my insides turn.

"You don't know _shit_, Mia!" he cuts her off, venomously. "Whenever my friends or my last girlfriends were in trouble, I dropped everything to help them. Because I know what it's like to have no one give a shit about you. I thought you knew that, too. I thought you of all people would understand. Wow, what the hell was _I_ thinking? The second a good break comes your way, you ditch me!"

"That's not _true_!" she protests, eyes wide in shock.

"It is _so_ _fucking true_! And _I'm not done yet_!" he shouts, furiously, and I jump at the sudden outburst of rage from the boy I love. "You know what? I got around to checking my cell phone a few minutes ago. You know how many calls I had to make to my friends to have them come find me when I was high as a kite, wandering off into late-night traffic downtown? _One_. You know how many calls I had to make to Darcy to get her to come home to help me? One call. _One_ call, and she flew in from _Africa_ on a _ten-hour flight_ just to take care of me. _That's_ the kind of girl she is, _that's_ why I fell in love with her."

My heart jumps, no, _sings_, at the words from his mouth. He's told me he loved me before, but never in front of his friends…our friends.

He leans in close to the screen, his handsome features scowling. "You know how many times I called you last night when I was stoned on meth? _Five times_. You know how many times you answered? ZERO times! Not _one damn phone call_! What, were you just rolling the dice and _hoping_ I'd be alive when you called today?"

"I stood by you, Mia! I supported you all the way. I _freakin' kissed your ass_ while it was cutting me up inside, because I didn't want to be alone again. I didn't want to make the same mistake that I made with Darcy, when I let her slip away. But I might as well have been single while I was with you, because when I'm with you, I feel like I'm alone _all the time_!"

The silence that follows is deafening. I see Spinner shifting uncomfortably, Danny awkwardly scratching his head, Sav looking anywhere but here, and…I think his name is Riley?...finding his shoes to be the most interesting thing in the world.

Though my heart aches to hold him, I make no move to calm him down. I realize that he's been holding all this in for a long time. He needs to get it out of his system, let it go…maybe then, he could start getting better, get back to being the Peter Stone I know and love…

Mia's face looks ashen. She sits frozen in front of her screen, speechless for a moment. Then she takes a calming breath, before her voice takes a low, but clearly angry tone. "Okay…are you done now?"

Peter lets out a derisive laugh, and I see in his eyes that he's already made the decision. So I say nothing, stand back…and just wait for it…

"Yeah," he smirks. "I'm done, Mia." His hand reaches across to grab hold of the right corner of the laptop computer. "And so are we."

With that, he slams the laptop shut.

We give him space for a few moments, watching him as his head hangs, arms supporting him on the countertop under the laptop.

Slowly, the guys take a few steps closer afterwards, but I reach him first. Gently, I lay a hand on his back. "Are you okay?" I ask, softly.

He nods, soberly. "Yeah, just…just give me a minute."

Danny comes up from behind. "Good riddance, bro. That's all I got to say."

Sav elbows him to be quiet. "Hey, man, you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," Peter replies, not caring to elaborate further than that.

Spinner lays a hand on his shoulder, firmly. "So…you off the meth trip now?"

Peter sighs, wearily. He glances over to me while answering Spinner's question. "If I ever see another meth bag again, it'll be too soon."

I nod, sighing in relief. This is good, this is a start. This is where he needs to be.

"If you ever see another meth bag again, it might kill you," Riley replies. He glances at Peter with kind eyes. "You scared the hell out of us, dude."

As his blue eyes lower in shame, I can tell he's coming to terms with his actions. What he did, who he hurt…what he almost lost.

"Guys…" he starts, but he struggles to get the words out. Unconsciously, I step closer to him, sliding my arm around his waist, reaching with my free hand to touch his elbow. He turns to me, eyeing me questioningly, but I nod, silently encouraging him to continue.

"I…I messed up. Like, big-time," he says, remorsefully. "I acted like a jerk. And…I'm sorry."

I hold him a little tighter. I know what it's like to lose control and hurt the people you care about. All too well. The nightmare of my junior year flashes through my mind…

Spinner shakes his head. "Stop right there, dude. You weren't yourself. We get that."

"Everyone makes mistakes, Pete," Sav shrugs with a smile. "You're human."

"Live and learn, bro," Danny grins as he extends his hand to Peter. Smiling for the first time since I've seen him, he and Danny share their high-five/strong handshake thing.

Danny's eyes suddenly get a hint of a mischievous glint. "Aww, group hug!"

And suddenly, the three Studz and Riley are crushing us with an overwhelming sea of humanity. I hear Peter groan, "Quit it! C'mon guys!" half-annoyed and half-amused, while I burst into laughter, which sends everyone else into hysterics.

"I lived out my dream of being in an after-school special!" Danny shouts, which sends us into further fits of laughter. This is nice. I've forgotten how much I miss my old friends. If Manny and Jane were here, this would be perfect. But this isn't about me. This is about Peter. And getting him back to who he was before.

He manages to shake free of the group hug. "Okay, if I never get stoned again for as long as I live, do you promise we never have to do _that_ again?"

Spinner smirks. "Only if you promise."

He turns to me, sky blue eyes shining with affection, looking at me in a way that makes my knees weak. "Thanks."

Okay, wasn't expecting that. "For what?"

"For coming here. All the way from Kenya. Just to put up with me and my stupid crap," he sighs.

I look at him, admonishingly. "Don't swear."

His laugh draws me in, and we're both laughing now…until we realize that my arm is still around his waist, and his arm is coming around my back…

…And we still haven't moved.

As if Spinner reads my next thought, he suddenly gives the guys a not-so-subtle look. "Um…hey, guys, don't we have to practice for that…thing at the place tonight?"

Off Danny's frown of confusion, Spinner gives him a death glare. Danny's dark eyebrows rise in realization. "Oh…yeah! Um, we gotta…practice. For the thing."

I barely stifle a chuckle as Peter rolls his eyes. "Nice attempt at subtle, guys." But then he smiles. "Thanks."

As they file out, each of them give him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"Call if you need us, bro," Spinner says. "You got my cell number."

Peter nods. "Thanks, Spin."

He nods back, then turns to me. "Take care of him, Darce."

I smile gratefully at Spinner. "I will. Thanks."

With that, he heads out with the others and the door closes, leaving only the two of us. In his apartment. Alone.

To Be Continued…


	4. The Fixer

Time after Time

By JeantheGuardian

Spoilers : Degrassi, season 9 Premiere "Just Can't Get Enough".

Summary: What if Peter made a different long distance call when he was high on meth? Darcy returns to help Peter kick the habit. But will she be enough to save him?

Pairings: Basically, it's a Peter/Darcy. (PARCY)

Disclaimer: I own nothing here. Not lyrics, not characters, nothing. Don't sue.

Feedback: Please and thank you! And thanks to degrassiiloveyou, Jess, moonlightwasagi, and hld12271982 for your reviews. You guys rock! Well, this is the end of the road, kids. Last chapter. Enjoy! And remember, friends don't let friends not post reviews ;)

Part 4 – The Fixer

* * *

_When somethings dark, let me shed a little light on it_  
_When somethings cold, let me put a little fire on it_  
_If somethings old, I wanna put a bit of shine on it_  
_When somethings gone, I wanna fight to get it back again_

_Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, fight to get it back again_  
_Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah_

_When somethings broke, I wanna put a bit of fixin on it_  
_When somethings bored, I wanna put a little exciting on it_  
_If somethings low, I wanna put a little high on it_  
_When somethings lost, I wanna fight to get it back again_

_Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, fight to get it back again_  
_Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah_

_When signals cross, I wanna put a little straight on it_  
_If there's no love, I wanna try to love again_

_I'll say your prayers, I'll take your side_  
_I'll find us a way to make light_  
_I'll dig your grave, we'll dance and sing_  
_What's saved could be one last lifetime_

_- Pearl Jam, "The Fixer"_

* * *

Peter's POV

* * *

This hasn't been the first time I've ever been alone with Darcy. Not by a long shot.

Our moments alone have usually been memorable, including me snapping sexy shots of her, our private moments in the stairwell when we were sneaking around in the beginning of our relationship, our times on the roof of the school, and of course, the first time we ever made love.

So, why am I more nervous to be alone with her now than I've ever been in all of those times combined?

I feel the warmth of her skin even through the thin cotton of her form-fitting purple shirt. I see those soft, brown eyes looking up at me, the mix of emotions clouded on them reflecting what I'm feeling.

Confusion… longing … uncertainty …lusting…and something else…something stronger than all of those feelings…

Her lips press together, her eyes anxiously darting up and down. "Um...I guess one of us should let go, huh?"

I swallow, nervously. "Uh…guess so…"

Yet, neither one of us makes a move yet. As if neither of us wants to break the spell, escape the comfort that our closeness brings one another…

I feel a pang of regret when I finally decide to break contact, giving her space.

Both of us stand there, so close to one another, yet neither one speaking. I can't really find the words…

"I'm…really sorry about Mia," she offers, apologetically.

I shake off the initial surprise at her words. I'm not sure I believe her on that one, based on the snippets of conversation that I heard while I was asleep (well, as asleep as I could get with a few ounces of meth in my system.)

"I'm not," I shrug. Truthfully, it feels like a weight's been lifted off my chest.

Her eyes scrunch, as if she's trying to read me. "Really?"

My eyes meet hers as I lean against the kitchen counter. "Yeah…truth be told, I didn't think we were going to be together much longer, anyway."

I can tell that statement surprises her. "Why?"

I gently roll up my shoulders in another shrug. Might as well go with the truth. "Mia was cool, at first. But to be honest…I never really felt like I could be myself around her. Nothing really clicked, you know? Near the end…it became more about just _having_ someone there than about being with someone I _wanted_ to be with." I let out a derisive snort. "If I had any doubts, the last 48 hours wiped that away."

She frowns for a minute, and I tense. Was something wrong? "Um…exactly…how much of that chat between me and her did you hear?"

I smirk, relieved. So, _that's_ what's on her mind. "Enough to realize that my old girlfriend is about a _hundred_ times cooler than my new, now-_ex_-girlfriend will ever be in my book."

I see the warm smile she rewards me with, and it makes my heart jump. How is it possible for a girl to be so beautiful, and not even realize it? Not even realize what she does to me on the inside?

She looks hesitant again, rocking back and forth on the balls of her heels for a moment. It's one of those Darcy-esque things she does that's so damn cute. "So…does this mean that you and Mia are definitely— "

I put up my hand to stop her chain of thought. "Darce, if Mia and I were any more history, we'd be a book," I reply, with a shake of my head.

It's true. I know that I probably did scare Mia, and she has an amazing opportunity ahead of her…but I don't take kindly to being ditched. Especially when I really need help. Bottom line: relationships are about trust. No trust, no relationship. It's as simple as that.

I wish Mia all the best, but I can't trust her, not anymore. Maybe not ever again.

Darcy sighs, relieved. "Good." Off my raised eyebrows at that word, she immediately starts backpedaling. It's actually kinda cute. "I mean…it's g-good that you're feeling okay with it— "

I chuckle, taking two steps closer to her. "I think I know what you mean."

She looks at me in a way I can't decipher. "_Do_ you?"

My breath catches in my throat at the look she gives me. A look that mirrors the one we shared only moments ago.

The beautiful auburn-haired angel inches closer to me, closer until we're standing with but a hair's breathe of space between us. Her enthralling scent is all around me, and for a few moments, it's incredibly hard to think. Amazing, how even after four months and half a world's distance, she still has this kind of hold over me.

"I meant what I said before, Darcy," I say, slowly lifting my hands up until they rest at her elbows. "Thanks for being there when I needed you."

A small snort of air escapes her as she shakes her head, a modest look on her face. "It's not a big deal."

I answer almost immediately. "Yes, it is." My hands slowly make their way down until they grasp the softness of her palms. "You flew halfway around the world for me. Why?"

She stares at me as if I'm missing something obvious, and perhaps I am.

"How could I not?" She replies, her fingers entwining around mine until our hands are melded into one, clasped together in perfect sync. Her eyes glisten with emotion as she looks deep into my own. "Last year, you were there at my lowest. You saw me going through the worst moments of my life, and instead of bailing altogether, you were there for me. I don't think I would've made it through all that without you."

I swallow back the lump of emotion that threatens to form in my throat as I recall the events of the past year. As hard as it was for Darcy – and I saw her go through hell – it was almost as hard for me.

Watching my girlfriend change into a stranger I barely knew anymore, seeing her struggle with the pain and suffering that one douchebag with a roofie put her through, being forced to play witness as the girl I loved walked the razor's edge between losing the will to live and finding the strength to fight…it was enough to make me lose my mind, to see her suffer so much and not be able to make it go away for her, to protect her.

My hand squeezes hers a little tighter. "I wish I could have done more."

She shakes her head almost immediately, bringing her right hand up to cradle the side of my face, and my head starts to swim as I find myself getting lost in her touch. "What you did…it was more than I would have ever asked for. From anyone."

I reach up and grab her hand, and I can't help but to stare as her eyes meet mine. "It's never that hard to support someone when there's love involved."

Her voice is small, but earnest. "No…no it's not."

Once again, words are lost as I find myself falling into those soft hazel eyes…

Her voice jerks me out of my reverie. "So…you going to be okay?"

Depends by your definition of okay. Am I okay to never touch drugs again? Most likely, yes. Am I okay to go back to being alone once she walks out that door and I find myself faced with the reality of life without her? Never…but I'll deal. Just like I always have. "What, with the meth problem? Yeah…I'm done with all that."

She looks at me with a sad, yet questioning look that both breaks my heart and makes me worry. "Just tell me…_why_?"

I frown in confusion for a moment before I realize what she means. She wants to know why the sudden craving for something that would turn my brains and teeth into mush, why I would play Russian roulette with my own life.

Shame washes over me as I lower my eyes to the floor, not wanting to look her in the eye when I answered. "I dunno. I guess I…"

Damn, why is this so hard?

Her hand finds its way to my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Come on, Peter. It's _me_. You can tell me anything, you _know_ that."

Maybe that's the problem. Because it _is_ her. I don't give a crap about what anyone else thinks of me, never did. But Darcy? Her approval, her opinion means the world to me.

"I guess I just…I just wanted to feel…like I could control something, for once, you know?" I begin, as my brain flashes unbidden images of the most humiliating last few days of my life. "I haven't been in control of a lot of things in my life, a lot of changes. Couldn't keep my parents from splitting on me, couldn't keep you from leaving, couldn't stop everything that…happened to you last year. So, when Mia tells me she gets this big modeling contract, instead of being happy for her, I realize another thing's slipping away. I'm losing another person I let into my life."

I sigh, leaning against the countertop. "I guess I figured the meth would at least help me control my own happiness. When I wanted to feel better, all I had to do was reach out, grab a bag, and poof! Instant happy." My palm roughly rubs my face. "I didn't think it would get so out of control so quickly."

I brace myself, expecting to hear the torrents of 'What were you thinking?' and 'How could you be so stupid?' and other comments validating my own stupidity of late.

Imagine my surprise when instead, her gentle hand returns to my shoulder, softly turning me to her. "That's what drugs do. You feel like you're in control, but you're not. The drugs end up controlling _you_, changing you…until you wake up one day and you realize you're not the person you once were."

It's as if she's inside my head. She's right. I've been so out of it lately that I've forgotten who I really am. And I have to say, this crazy, drugged up loser that looks back at me in the mirror where Peter Stone used to be…I'm not a big fan of.

"Peter…" she says, as worry tints her voice. "Just _promise_ me — "

"Darcy, I promise," I reply, knowing exactly what she was thinking. "I will _never_ use meth again."

"Not even once," she says, letting out a frustrated sigh before she worriedly chides me. "Gosh, Peter, you could've _died_ this time! Do you have _any_ idea what it would _do_ to me if you _died_?"

I don't think I've ever felt guiltier in my life. The thought that I would have caused her more pain, more suffering…

"I…I know. Darce…" I start, but my apology begins to falter. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm just…so damn sorry."

I watch her softly exhale, waving off my apology. "It's okay. You're okay, I'm okay, we're okay. That's all that matters."

I raise my eyebrows, surprised by her statement. "_We_?"

Her cheeks take on a lovely pink tint. "Uh…"

"Relax, Darce, I'm just messing with you," I chuckle, though I feel bitterness at my next thoughts. She came back for me, right when I needed her most of all…but it doesn't mean she's going to stay. She has a whole other life now, one that doesn't include me…one that's halfway across the planet.

One she has to go back to soon, and leave me behind for…again.

She knows how to read me all too well, because her face drops her relieved smile from my joke and replaces it with that soft, worried look. "Peter? What's wrong?"

"So…what now, Darcy?" I sigh, morosely. "You get back on that plane and go to Kenya? Back to saving the world?"

"Oh…" Her eyes light up in understanding as she realizes what suddenly has me so down. "Well…I still have another month left in the program."

I can feel my heart literally ache at her words. "Yeah…"

She bites her lip, in what looks like a sad gesture. "And we are almost done."

"I guess."

She turns away from me as her lovely, slender form takes a few short paces back from me, wringing her hands in contemplation. "And I would need a really, _really_ good reason to quit a prestigious program to come back and finish my year at Degrassi."

My head hangs in defeat, and I can feel my shoulders slump. Once she finishes, combined with her grades and this program, she can choose whatever college she wants. She'd have to be crazy if she was going to blow this program off just for my screw-up ass. "I know."

Then…the most amazing thing happens. She turns back to me, an impish smile on her perfect face, and utters 20 words I'll never forget:

"Like, say…making sure the only boy I've ever loved doesn't try to do something he might not live to regret?"

My head jacks up immediately, and I can feel the shock written on my face. I can feel hope for the first time in a long while spring up deep inside me. She couldn't possibly mean…could she?

"You mean…?"

With an enchanting giggle, she smiles and nods. "Yeah."

I start coming towards her, my mind full of hope, but filled also with questions. "But… your program— "

"I talked to Mr. N'Baku. He understood the situation. In fact, he even commended me for caring enough about someone to give up the program and come back to help them. He's writing me what he called a 'glowing letter of recommendation.'"

"Your parents—"

With a flick of her right hand, she waves off that concern. "Will have to deal with it. Besides, I think they'd be happy to get their first-born daughter back after four months away on another continent."

This is too good to be true, this can't be happening…"We're in mid-year already at Degrassi. Classes are almost—"

"Oh, that. _Well_…" she reaches towards me, but instead of taking my hand, her fingers daftly reach into the front of my jeans as she tugs me gently towards her. I feel a sudden surge of desire as I watch a flirtatious smile spread on those perfect lips, my waist's nerves alive at the touch of her fingers. "I'm kinda tight with this _really_ hot guy whose Mom's the principal. I think he might be able to get me hooked up with a few good classes in time for graduation. What do _you_ think?"

I can feel the old charm coming back, as my hands reach out and slide around that toned, slim waist as I pull her towards me. "I don't know, Darce," I feel a playful smirk on my face, "I _heard_ about that guy. He _might_ want something in return."

"Yeah?" she smiles, as her hands start sliding up my chest, batting her eyes in feigned innocence. "Like what?"

My arms are now encircled around her waist, as we draw close enough to feel her soft frame pressed against me, a feeling that feels so effortless, so…natural. "I don't know, but it would have to be something good."

She offers that teasing smile again that drives me crazy as her arms make their way around my neck. "Oh, I can _definitely_ make it worth his while."

I can't help but chuckle as our noses rub against each other, her sweet lips only a few centimeters apart…

But, to my surprise, instead of her lips, my mouth comes in contact with her fingertips instead. I open my eyes to find her standing with a concerned, yet stern face.

"But, Peter…look, if we're going to be…_together_ again…there have to be a few conditions."

I'm not sure I like the sound of that. "What kind of conditions?"

"Just three," she replies, before the first of her fingers rises. "First…the meth. I know, you already said it, but I need you to swear it to me. _Never again_, okay?"

That's fine with me. I don't think I could take too many mornings waking up with the urge to peel off my skin, anyway. "I swear, Darce," I reply solemnly. "I'm never touching that crap again."

She nods, but it's hard to tell if she's simply going to take that statement at face value. "Good. Because you have too much to offer, you mean too much to me to throw your life away on drugs. Especially that drug."

I bring her free hand up to mine, kissing it softly. "Don't worry. It won't happen again."

"Still, I'd like some assurance." Off my confused frown, she elaborates. "Which brings me to the second condition: rehab."

Oh, shit, you've _got_ to be kidding. Anything but that…

I find myself sputtering in protest, "_Rehab_? Darcy, I don't–"

"Peter." Her face turns a strict glare towards me, a look leaving no room for negotiation. "This _isn't_ a discussion. You need help. I've read about meth. From the first hit, you're always going to have a craving for it. I trust you, but I don't trust what it might have done to you."

"But Darce—"

Her voice rises slightly, not enough to shout, but plenty to drown mine out. "Don't '_But Darce'_, me, Peter! I told you I would be right by your side, but you have to trust me on this! I can't go through again what I did when I was holding you hours ago. You…"

She breaks off, lowering her gaze as I catch the sight of her lower lip trembling ever so slightly. Her voice goes small, hushed, but the fear in it was unmistakable. "…you really scared me."

Once again, I feel like a complete asshole. For the first time in days, I get an up close look at what the people I care about went through when I decided to take a chance on meth.

I gently lift her chin up so that her eyes and mine are locked again. "I'm so sorry," I reply in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't be sorry. Just promise me you'll go. _Please_?"

The idea of rehab completely sucks. Sitting in front of strangers telling them my problems, swallowing medications, being forcefed shitty hospital food…it's like being sentenced to a living hell for several weeks. A total suckfest.

But as I hear the pleading in her voice, see the earnest look in those soft hazel irises…Darcy, _my_ Darcy, begging me to do this…. I let out a resigned sigh. Rehab might suck, but life without Darcy…that _is_ a living hell. I once told her that I'd risk all the sh…all the sugar in the world for only a minute with her. And if it means I can be with her again, I'll sit in every "share circle" in North America if I have to.

"Okay…for you, I promise."

Whatever doubts I might have about my decision are swept away as Darcy's eyes light up with relief, throwing her arms around my neck as she leans in close enough to tickle my ear with her breath. "Thank you."

I waste no time in hugging her back, taking in that incredible flower-like scent from her hair. Rehab…this is going to be brutal. It might even hurt…but if it means I can have more moments like this in my future, with the only girl I've ever loved in my arms, I'd call it more than a fair trade.

Then, something dawns on me, as I nervously ask, "Um…so, the third condition?"

Darcy pulls back, with a smile on her face. "Well, that one's easy."

What's she up to? "Why's that?"

That sexy smile comes back, and our eyes lock once again as she leans closer to my face, whispering softly, "Because it involves a lot of this."

As our lips meet, and she gently nips at my mouth as the kiss lingers, it's like something deep inside me finally snaps back into place. The doors to my heart, bolted shut by uncertainty and self-involved parents and self-loathing, suddenly burst wide open. It's like I found something I thought lost forever.

Yes, this is what it means to be whole again, to be truly alive again…with her…breathless, I pull away as we stare deep into each other's eyes, and for a moment, it's like I see the other part of me in those hazel orbs. The other half of my soul.

"Oh." I feel a smile from deep within burst to the surface. "I think I'm going to like this one."

Her enchanting giggle rings in my ears as she teasingly rolls her eyes. "Well, duh."

"So…you're really back?"

My hands grip her waist just a little tighter, as I ask that question. I need to have that question answered. Is she really here? Is she back for good?

"That all depends." She says as she searches my eyes for something. "Do you _want_ me back?"

No. I don't want her back. I _need_ her back. Like I need air, or to eat, or to sleep. Without Darcy, I've managed to survive. But the only time in my life that I've ever been truly alive is when I've been with her. I need her smile, her warmth, her laughter, even when my jokes are corny…I need her unshakable faith in me that never falters even when it all looks hopeless, her selfless spirit that would sacrifice anything for others – even for a screw-up like me…

I need her to love me…as much as I love her.

My voice is strained with emotion as I stare back into those beautiful eyes…"More than I've ever wanted _anything_."

She says nothing, but the beaming glow on her face says all the words I need to hear. She pulls my head down to meet her lips, and once again, the world falls away in a haze of strawberry lip-gloss, soft lips and that flower-like scent again…the world just falls away…

…and we end up stumbling over one of the speakers left lying around. But even as we tumble to the ground, a startled gasp from her lips follows by us both fitfully laughing as we still hold onto each other.

I have a long road ahead of me. Meth may have bruised my dignity, nearly crushed my bond with my friends, and solidly ended relationship No. 3…but it couldn't break my spirit. Darcy saw to that. Like some kind of guardian angel, she came from out of nowhere, right when I needed help most of all…when I needed love most of all.

If there is any good that came out of this, I'm holding it right now. Every 5 foot 3, auburn-haired, hazel eyed inch of it. This is where I need to be, this is where I belong. In the arms of Darcy Edwards.

In the arms of the girl who saved my life…the only girl I'll ever love. Could this be any more perfect?

And as she holds her finger to my lips, thoughtfully adding, "Oh…don't forget to call your mother" – _classic Darcy_ – I can't help but to smile as I gently murmur my reply, realizing how much more perfect it just became before our lips meet again:

"Hey…Whatever you want, babe."

* * *

THE END

* * *

A/N: Whew! Wow, I can't beleive I actually finished. Thanks for everyone who stuck with this story. Maybe now, I can get around to finishing some other stories I'm working on, unless another Parcy-type bolt of inspiration hits me. Please review!


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